


Parity

by yeaka



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e07 The Honeypot, M/M, Multi, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Kevin needs to be with Jake for Reasons.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Kevin Cozner/Jake Peralta, Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Comments: 17
Kudos: 56





	Parity

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: More repercussions of ‘the Honeypot’ episode.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Brooklyn Nine-Nine or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When Kevin looked him dead in the eye and breathed out those three familiar syllables, so quick and without any hesitation, Raymond was sure he was joking. Raymond even laughed. The noise echoed through their bedroom loud enough to likely startle Cheddar beyond the thick walls—they never fight directly in front of him, not if they can help it. Kevin didn’t smile. Raymond asked again, “Who would you suggest?”

And Kevin repeated, “Peralta.”

Raymond’s had time for it to sink in. A week later, he’s answering the door, and Peralta’s standing there with a big, goofy grin on his face, infinitely wider than the one he brings to work, because Raymond _invited him over_ , and to Jake Peralta, a man Raymond vaguely considers an almost-friend, that’s a big enough prize. He doesn’t even know the best part yet. It was hardly something Raymond could convey over the phone. Jake lifts a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag and chirps, “Hey, I brought wine!” Except it looks more like some sort of sophomoric soda drink than anything of actual value. Raymond does his best to not grab the bottle and smash it on the ground. 

Instead, he steps back, drawing the door aside, and gestures Jake into his home. He reminds himself that he bought this trouble. He was the one that stepped out first. Except that was technically Jake’s fault, because Raymond would never have hired someone so obviously inappropriate as Gordon Lundt on his own, and he _certainly_ wouldn’t have taken another man to a museum if not for Jake’s prodding. But now he’s paying for it, and Jake’s actually going to get rewarded. 

Jake takes a few steps inside, sets the bottle down on the nearest stand— _without a coaster, the least of his offenses today_ —and spots Kevin. Kevin’s standing there, primly dressed in a simple white-button up, the collar popped open just enough to see a sneak peak of creamy pink skin below. The way the tailored fabric cups his handsome figure is already enticing enough, but the slight sheerness of that fabric is downright _indecent_. It’s the sort of shirt that _requires_ a suit jacket or at least a sweatervest. But Kevin’s forgone either. His belt may as well be unbuckled, his pressed trousers down around his ankles. Jake doesn’t deserve that view. 

Jake takes it in anyway. There’s a split second where his eyes visibly trace Kevin’s form, lingering along the subtle changes. He’s not as awful a detective as Raymond makes him out to be. Surely he’s noticed the obvious invitation. Kevin smoothly greats, “Jacob,” as though they’re _the closest_ of friends. Then he suggests, “Why don’t you join us in the living room?” Kevin turns and strolls there without waiting for an answer. Raymond doesn’t miss the ever-so-slight swing to his hips, and it’s unlikely Jake does either. Jake follows with a spring in his step that Raymond would kill another man for. 

Raymond shuts his eyes and reminds himself that this is no longer the thorn-in-his-side rogue detective, but a young man who’s done so much for Raymond and _would_ do _anything._

Including sleep with his husband, he’s sure. Raymond opens his eyes again and stiffly follows, telling himself through privately grit teeth that he and Jake are some form of _friends._

Kevin takes a careful seat on the edge of one of their plush couches, crossing one leg over his thigh and folding both hands atop the knee. His exacting posture is mouth watering, and Raymond knows at once how he fell in love with such a gorgeous man. Jake drops onto the other side of the couch like a sack of bricks with all the grace of Hitchcock. Raymond resists the urge to revert back to mentally addressing him as just _Peralta_. Kevin asks in that perfectly smooth, lilting voice of his, “I assume Raymond didn’t explain to you why you’re here?”

“Because we’re best buds and you’re surprising me with baseball game tickets because I’m such a good so—bud, I meant bud?”

Jake actually looks like he believes that’s a possibility. The enthusiasm isn’t helping. Kevin doesn’t react, but simply looks at Raymond and says, “Why don’t you explain it to him, _dear_?”

Jake’s eyes go a little wide. It’s an appropriate reaction. Raymond and Kevin _don’t_ use terms of endearments around company. Jake has just been promoted several levels with that one sweeping gesture. Raymond meets Kevin’s gaze for a long moment. The intensity of it is at first irritating, and then makes him want to shove Jake out of the way and claim Kevin right on their brand new Persian rug. 

He clears his throat and begins, “You remember the Gordon Lundt incident, I assume.”

The sunshine instantly falls away from Jake’s face. “You guys aren’t still fighting about that!” He swivels to Kevin and bursts, “It wasn’t the Captain’s fault, I totally pressured him into it—”

He did, but they’ve had this discussion before, so Raymond raises his voice and continues, “Kevin is well aware of the circumstances. Regardless, the fact still remains that I conducted an affair.”

Jake actually _winces_ , as though the word has any bearing on his own marriage. It might soon. “Sir, I would hardly call it—”

“They observed barrels together,” Kevin icily provides, which Raymond, unfortunately, agrees with. The evidence is irrefutable. 

“Sir... _sirs_... C’mon, Captain— _Kev_ —” Jake turns between them, clearly at a loss for words, but wanting to fix a problem that they’ve already solved. 

“It’s alright, Jake,” Kevin quietly provides, and the casual use of _Jake_ , rather than Peralta, detective, even _Jacob_ , isn’t at all lost on Raymond. “We’ve reached an agreement on how to move forward.” He glances at Raymond, who has to finish. 

“Yes. Kevin needs to have his own affair.”

“ _What_?”

“It’s the only reasonable solution. We’ve discussed the matter in depth, and there simply is no other way to restore equilibrium to the relationship without the possibility of such a grave indiscretion being brought up at a later date and causing undue stress again.”

“But... sir...” Jake looks _very_ confused, even though the solution seems so simple that it should be obvious. Then his brow knits, and he mutters, “Wait, why am I...?”

“I chose you,” Kevin provides, saving Raymond the misery. “This is, of course, entirely discretionary, and there will be no repercussions should you decline.”

Jake’s _staring_. It’s as though Kevin’s suddenly turned a unique shade of green or grown an enthralling new appendage. Raymond figured it would take some explaining. 

At the time, Raymond needed his own explaining. He’d asked, _“Are you suggesting him just to hurt me?”_

And Kevin had insisted, _“Of course not. Don’t be childish—”_

_“I’m not—”_

And then Raymond devolved into the sort of mindless fool that Kevin’s office parties make him, even though Kevin’s arguments were entirely sound and Raymond should’ve known that Kevin would never intentionally hurt him. 

Jake splutters, “Me?”

Kevin calmly explains, “You’re the only logical choice.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“We’ve known you long enough to be assured of your trustworthiness—as, I’m sure you can guess, this is _not_ something we would ever want discussed with any outside parties—we both know you well enough that we can be assured you won’t take sides, I believe I have a reasonable expectation that you will be amenable, and, most importantly, Raymond can be absolutely certain that I will not be inclined to pursue the matter further.”

Jake looks a mixture of awed, then flattered, then dazedly offended. “Wait, what?”

Raymond feels the need to clarify, “We both know Kevin could never want more from you.” Which, actually, was a concern. Once that door was opened, it’d be hard to know for certain that Kevin would never go back for seconds. Jake didn’t even take off his grubby sneakers at the door. There’s no way Kevin would seriously pursue him. 

The fact that Raymond was too distracted to notice those shoes tracking into his home only confirms that this situation has gotten far out of control. It needs to be closed immediately. Jake still looks confused and mumbles, “Ouch?" 

Kevin prods, “Are you?”

“What?”

“Amenable.”

Jake fumbles with words before spouting, “I’m married.” He gapes at Kevin a few seconds longer, then turns to Raymond as though he should’ve known that. Everyone in the precinct is, unfortunately, painfully aware of the far too public Peralta-Santiago situation. 

Raymond retorts, “I assumed you would’ve come to the same conclusion about your own marriage.”

“What?”

“Well, given that Detective Santiago is clearly having an affair with Detective Diaz—”

“ _What?_ Amy’s not sleeping with Rosa!”

Raymond’s not convinced but politely retorts, “Oh.”

“They would never... wait, do you think they would? Like, would she be into that?” Jake’s brows have furrowed, gaze intent, clearly wanting an answer, though Raymond has absolutely no idea what goes on in Amy Santiago’s head. Other than she has poor taste in partners. Then Jake’s gaze drifts away, and he murmurs to himself, “That’d be... actually, that’d be really hot...” He turns back to Raymond. “I mean... I guess I could _suggest_ it to her and see what she says... of course, she’d think it was weird, obviously she’d think it was weird—she’d probably be like _why do you want to have sex with your dad?_ —” Raymond can’t tell which is more offensive: Jake’s incestuous implication or his pathetic imitation of Santiago’s voice. “—and then I’d be all _obviously I don’t want to have sex with my dad, Amy, just my dad’s husband which is totally different_ —except I guess that’s still my dad, oh my God, it is weird—”

As much as Raymond’s desperate for a solution, he might also be alright with Jake talking himself out of it. Surely Kevin could find someone else, someone actually capable of reading anything longer than a magazine cover-to-cover. Then again, he reminds himself, this is exactly why he won’t have to suffer suspicions of a longer affair. Jake has proven himself to be a decent enough human being, but it’s still an enormous mystery that he’s married, much less to someone as well organized as Detective Santiago. 

Kevin cuts through Jake’s turmoil. In an admirably commanding voice, one to make even Raymond proud, he all but purrs, “I’m sure any fatherhood issue won’t be a problem in this circumstance, Jacob. In fact, I’m quite certain you’ll agree, simply so you _can_ be a good boy for your... _daddy_.” There’s only the slightest tremor around the last word. He clearly doesn’t understand the sensuality of it any more than Raymond does. But plenty of people seem to be _into_ that word, like they should be into opera or proper barrel-making. 

Jake’s completely frozen up. He’s staring at Kevin. Maybe he’s finally noticed that Kevin’s top button is open, the one below it loose, and it wouldn’t take much to rip the rest off. 

Jake jumps to his feet so abruptly that Raymond almost reaches for the ghost of his gun. Face entirely flushed over, Jake practically shouts, “I’ll go text Ames, B.R.B.!” And then he’s bolting from the room. Raymond doesn’t check which room he’s bolted too. Kevin tosses Raymond a note of confusion, but Raymond has no idea what ‘beearbee’ means either. 

As they’re finally alone, Raymond takes the opportunity to remind Kevin, “I didn’t actually sleep with Gordon, you know.”

“Of course,” Kevin responds, as though there was never any doubt, and there probably wasn’t—their relationship is built on explicit trust, hence why it’s so important to even the playing field. “I don’t intend to sleep with Jacob either.”

“May I ask what exactly you _do_ plan on doing to him?”

“I was going to help him put on a proper suit. Obviously I don’t have one in the correct size or adequately tailored, but one would hope that even a poor fit would inspire a better sense of dress in him.” And, Kevin leaves off, the act of dressing another man, especially in a _suit_ , is powerfully intimate. Raymond can vividly remember the last time he fastened Kevin’s cuff links, and then pounded him hard over the bathroom sink, because those few arousing seconds had made Kevin putty in his hands. 

Raymond answers only, “That’s arguably worse.”

“Worse than an educational lecture in a museum?”

“Noted. I retract my judgment.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that, Jake’s back, bursting into the room and nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement. It’s a wonder he hasn’t attracted Cheddar with his enthusiasm, which would, of course, be a disaster—there’s no reason for Cheddar to realize his fathers are hussies. Hopefully, he’s still peacefully asleep in the study. 

Jake points two index fingers at Raymond—air guns, he calls them—and breathlessly relays, “Great news, turns out I married the best woman ever and she’s totes cool with me sleeping with our boss! ...’s husband! Also, good call about the Rosa thing, did _not_ see that one coming, but—”

Kevin lets out a long sigh. Hopefully he’s already regretting his decision. Raymond bites back more judgment. 

He stays seated on the far couch while Kevin rises. Jake offers a hand that Kevin doesn’t take, instead brushing right past him, obviously headed for their wardrobe. Before following, Jake throws Raymond a guilty, “Sorry! But I will totally be respectful of your husband—”

“You won’t be having sex with him.”

“What?”

Kevin calls back, “Peralta.”

“Coming da—I mean, Sir—I mean, Kev!”

Jake snaps to attention and scurries off faster than he ever does for Raymond’s call. To be fair, Raymond has never quite mastered Kevin’s magnetic sexuality. He sinks into the couch and tries desperately not to think of what’s going on in his upstairs closet. He’s quite relieved to be distracted five minutes later by an influx of text messages from Diaz, who has, apparently, received a very odd call of her own.


End file.
